Rise
by Alicia of the Temptation
Summary: Ch. 3: "Boxes." "Oh, uh...an idea for the project. I...I think it's supposed to be, like, electricity in a box. But, I don't even know what that means." "Sounds like something waiting to happen." [Warning: Existentialism, dissociation, suicide, and death.]
1. Don't Think

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etcetera, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Rise.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: Danny Phantom.

Summary: _No, no. Don't focus too much._ _Don't do much._

Warnings: AU. Possible OOC. Discussion of depression and depersonalization.

Notes: **This is the sequel to** _ **Freefall**_. A lot of stressful and depressing things have happened since August, but what better way to get that out of my system than some good angst. Thank you so much for all your support, and I hope you enjoy _Rise_.

* * *

Chapter One

Don't Think

* * *

It was...funny...to open his wallet now and see a driver's license instead of a school ID. It was funny to comb his hair and realize it wasn't the grown-out mess he once had. And it was funny, truly in the worst way, to transform into his ghost half and realize nothing had changed at all when Danny Fenton became Danny Phantom. It was, as if, he hadn't changed at all.

As if, he hadn't gotten better at all, and was back at square one. It was truly frustrating.

* * *

June came and passed. As did July, and his project was complete. August rolled around and, with it, cold weather. When the first day of school came, Danny had a backpack full of new notebooks, pens, and pencils. And a Fenton Thermos, for good measure. Around his left wrist was the bracelet Vlad gave him in May, and around his right ring finger was a thick silver band.

Sitting on the front steps of Casper High at five-forty in the morning felt surreal. There was no breakfast in his body, his belly already full of knots. He stared up at the sky, looking up at the stars that still hung in the dark sky. The sun wouldn't rise until, at least, six-thirty, and with it, so will the majority of the student body. The new school year meant a new chance.

Danny tried not to put in too much hope. Too much hope led to too much work, too much work led to burn out, burn out led to failure. And failure wasn't any good in his current situation. If he failed again,...

 _No, no. Let's not think about that. Let's not think about anything._

Danny lied down carefully against the steps, his head resting on the higher step. The air around him felt surreal, his head felt like it was on a cloud, his body felt like it was floating on water. His stomach still hurt, but maybe this was all just nerves. _Just nerves_ , he told himself. Not that strange sense of disconnection that hurt him for the past two years.

 _Focus. Focus._

 _No, no. Don't focus too much._

 _Don't do much._

* * *

His first class was Art Composition, an elective his parents wanted him to take when he had to build his schedule. Danny supposed it'd be a good class. Not an easy class – he was shit at drawing – but a class that didn't involve a lot of thinking.

His teacher was Miss Greene. She looked like a giraffe that hadn't grown out of the hippy movement. With glasses.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Greene said is a whimsical voice. "I want to make sure each of you can live up to your potential in the best possible matter. We are here, not to just learn about art, but discover our own sense of style. Some of you might already have a good feel of who you are, some of you might not have a single idea, some of you might just be following in your parents' footsteps,...

Miss Greene smiled, "I want you all to use art as a way of taking the first step of truly discovering yourselves, inventing yourselves, finding out exactly what makes you a person, an individual, _yourself._ "

Danny stared at this woman. She sounded like she took too hard of a hit from Mary Jane this morning.

"Aside from the smaller pieces here and there, the major part of your Art grade will come from a year long project each of you will build."

Valerie raised her hand. "Will we have partners in this project?"

"Miss...Gray,...I'm afraid you will not have partners. The year long project is what I want each of you to use to truly figure out what you want in your future and yourself. I'm afraid you can't text your best friend at three in the morning and ask them if we truly exist, or if we are just the embodiment of the lesser thoughts of a higher being..."

Miss Greene tilted her head, "Well, I mean, you _can_ , but your best friend will probably tell you you need sleep."

That definitely brought a few laughs to the sleep-deprived students, Danny included.

"While I'm passing out syllabuses, I want each of you to think of what you want your project to be about. But, think carefully of it, because once you decide on a topic, you _cannot_ back out of the topic."

"Fenton will probably think of some crappy ghosts," Dash laughed.

The syllabus was slapped on the desk in front of him, which silenced the class. Miss Greene's calm demeanor became cold as she said aloud, "Mr. Baxter, you might be used to belittling your classmates for quite some time, but I will not accept any sort of misbehavior. All of you will be considering your futures, some of you even graduating early, which means you need to consider _maturing._ "

Miss Greene kept passing syllabuses, but her eyes were locked on Dash's, "The next time I hear you, or anyone, belittling or bullying fellow classmates, l will make your junior year go from a breeze or a living Hell. Do you understand?"

Miss Greene turned and carefully placed the syllabus in front of Danny, who looked up at her with wide, amazed eyes.

Dash couldn't put in an answer.

As Miss Greene kept walking, she winked at Danny, childish playfulness in her face.

Danny felt he was going to have a good time in Art.

* * *

Nerves were a tricky thing when you couldn't control them. Nervousness could quickly become anxiety if you couldn't get a handle of them. And anxiety can lead to a few different outcomes.

Danny breathed. Jazz taught him to take in deep breaths, and let them out slowly.

It was, thankfully, lunchtime, but Danny couldn't stomach going into the cafeteria. As a first day treat, the cafeteria was giving out hamburgers and veggie burgers, but as soon as Danny took a whiff of that, he wanted nothing more than to puke. His skin felt clammy, his hands felt cold. His _eyes_ felt cold.

Somehow, some way, his body still remembered his first major fight as a ghost, and the disgusting scent of cafeteria meat made the ectoplasm in his own cells jump out of pure fear.

His stomach was twisting, turning, and _oh God._

Danny was already, thankfully, in a stall in the bathroom. He leaned into the toilet and puked.

"Danny? Yo, man! You in here?"

Danny puked even harder.

"Oh,...shit."

Tucker felt his own stomach turn in response, the two burgers he ate – one of which used to be Danny's – threatening to come back up. "Danny, man. What happened? You were fine. What? Is it first day jitters?"

"Ugh,...no, no. Tuck."

Danny wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet. He exited the stall, and Tucker frowned at the pale, clammy face of his best friend. "What happened? Danny-"

"It's nothing, Tuck," Danny said, turning on the faucet at the sink. He washed out his mouth and scrubbed his face.

"It's just...the smell, it got to me...I just...my body just felt like Lunch Lady was back, ya know."

"Oh." Tucker murmured. "...Lunch Lady's still the Ghost Zone, remember. You fought last month, and she kinda just stuck around in there."

"I thought it was last week?"

"Da-...No. Man, that was last month. You didn't fight anyone last week. I guess the ghosts were on vacay."

Danny stared back at his reflection. His skin was still a little pale, but his cheeks were beginning to flush with color, even though they felt cold. He poked his own cheek, feeling his finger on his skin. Was that really his hand?

"Hey." Tucker placed a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Get out of your head, Danny."

"...Sorry."

Danny lowered his hand and sighed, moving away from the sink and drying his hands on his shirt. He thumbed at the ring on his finger, a ring Sam and Tucker bought him as a memento.

Tucker kept his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Come on, Danny. Sam's waiting."

The two boy exited the bathroom, and took notice of Sam, who waited patiently beside the door. She smiled and lifted her hand to show Danny a can of ginger ale. "Drink this. All of it."

Danny scoffed, accepting the drink. "Yes, ma'am."

Sam looked over her friend and sighed. "Everything is going to be okay, Danny. But you can't get into your head too much, okay?"

"Mm-hm."

"I'm serious."

"Mm-hm."

Tucker slapped the back of the boy's head, and Danny laughed, spilling ginger ale over his face and the floor. But he kept laughing. "I'm fine, guys. Well, I'm not fine, but, ha...I guess I'm better than last time."

Danny wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I'm fine, I swear. I just...need some air."


	2. A Little Hope

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etcetera, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Rise.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: Danny Phantom.

Summary: The point of getting better wasn't becoming miraculously happy and motivated to deep-clean his house, or whatever. The point of getting better was getting the fuck out of bed and, at least, brushing his teeth and remembering to eat some meals.

Warnings: AU, possible OOC, and discussion of suicide.

* * *

Chapter Two

A Little Hope

* * *

The point of getting better wasn't becoming miraculously happy and motivated to deep-clean his house, or whatever. The point of getting better was getting the fuck out of bed and, at least, brushing his teeth and remembering to eat some meals.

Danny stared at his plate, willing his hands to lift from his lap. He knows he _should_ eat – his human half required plenty of food, especially if he switched into his ghost half – but he doesn't _want to_. Danny doesn't want to eat the food on his plate, and he just wants to brush his teeth and go to bed. Of course, _rationally_ , that wasn't a very healthy idea.

"Sweetheart, your food's going to get cold," Maddie said, a small smile upon her face.

Danny nodded his head and lifted his hand to pick up his fork. He was quick to pick at the mashed potatoes his mother made, and popped a bite into his mouth. He didn't want to eat, and was beginning to dislike the idea of eating at all.

The boy looked down at his hand, and felt, as if, he wasn't looking at his hands. He knew his hands were absolutely his, but the pale, scratch-ridden fingers felt foreign to him. His calloused palms were rough like cheap paper, more like hands that belonged to his thirty-eight-year-old father instead of him, a boy of only sixteen.

"Danny?"

Danny blinked and looked up. He saw three pairs of eyes staring back at him, full of concern.

His father called out, "You alright, son?"

"I...yeah. Yes, I'm fine, Dad."

"You hadn't touched your food at all."

Danny looked, really looked, at his plate. There was no steam coming from the green beans on his plate, and his chicken looked dry. His father's plate had been cleaned out of all food, and Jazz and Maddie already put their plates away.

"I'm...not hungry."

"Danny, you've got to eat," his father pressed. "Can't hunt ghosts on an empty stomach!"

Danny swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling tighter. He never solidified the thought of ghost-hunting. It was beginning to feel more like a chore, rather than a choice.

"No ghost hunting for me tonight, Dad," Danny said, pushed his plate lightly. "I think I'll just be heading to bed."

"You wouldn't want a glass of milk, or something? Maybe some lemonade?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Danny said, through his teeth. "Honest. Excuse me."

Danny got up from his seat and walked away from the table, his dinner abandoned.

Jack sighed as he watched his son's retreating form. "He's getting like that again, Mads."

Maddie picked up the plate, her face neutral. "We don't want Danny to feel bad, but we can't do anything if he doesn't want to. Besides, he's been going to class every day and doing his homework. The best we can do is just hope."

 _Hope for something good_ , Jack hoped.

* * *

His father was the one to buy him a sketchpad, and some new pencils. They weren't fancy, name-brand art supplies, but they were something different from crumbly notebooks and ectoplasm stained pens that were normally in his house.

Danny stared at the page in front of him. All he'd done so far was trace lines and circles on the first few pages of the sketchpad. He wrote down the prompt for his art project on the first page of his sketchpad. _Use art as an expression for one of the following:_

 _Your thoughts about your immediate future._

 _Your childhood fantasies._

 _Freeform – any topic you want._

He wondered if his classmates might either stick to the pre-made prompts Ms. Greene wrote, or come up with something on their own. Should he come up with something on his own? Thinking about his future made him sick, and thinking about his dream of being an astronaut made him sick. But, what exactly should he draw? Should he just wing it?

Danny inhaled, held his breath, then exhaled.

Fuck it.

Pencil to paper, he brought up all of the bad feelings. Jazz told him it was okay to bring up those bad feelings every once in a while, but not to mull over them for too long. " _You don't want to fall into a slump by accident_."

What did he currently feel? Well,...anxious. He felt like a tight ball of electricity, zipping and floating inside of a trembling, crumbling box. Barely able to keep all that energy in. But, what would happen if he let that electricity out? If he let that tight ball loosen up, unravel all the bright electricity inside of it, zip around to give him energy he actually _wanted_.

Huh.

Danny stared at his fingertips. They felt cold, and there were tiny shocks of electricity coming from them, making him drop his pencil. A new power? It felt different. The electricity felt cold, like all of his other powers, but more like a release.

He looked over to his sketchpad. All he'd drawn was a large box, with an intense amount of scribbles inside of it.

 _It's a start_ , Danny nodded, a smile coming to his face.

* * *

It was three in the morning when his ghost sense came and woke him up. Irritation settled in right after it.

"Who the fuck-"

"Danny."

The deep voice was familiar, and Danny peeled open his eyes to stare at the glowing form of Clockwork, who was currently in his child form.

"...It's three in the morning, Clockwork."

"Yes, I know, Danny."

Clockwork floated onto the end of Danny's bed, changing into his adult form. "We need to talk."

"Is it about him? Dan?"

"Yes."

Danny pushed himself to a sitting position, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. "What is it? Is he getting stronger?"

"...He's gone, Danny."

"What?"

Clockwork took a breath, letting his walking staff float as he crossed his arms. He switched into his aging form. "I check the thermos every two weeks, to assure the seal will not break, and to see if he had changed in any way. He usually makes a wickedly horrible noise whenever I'm near, so it was a bit of a surprise that everything was so quiet."

"I checked the thermos, but there wasn't a sound. Not a shift, nor sigh, nor shout. I looked into the time stream, to see into the thermos, but there was no one inside."

"Did he...did he escape?"

Oh, no. Oh, no. If _he_ got out, Danny wouldn't know what to do. There was more at stake now, and suddenly, he felt his throat close up, his heart quicken. He wasn't strong, he wasn't strong enough to beat Dan just yet, and he wouldn't have the time to develop this new electricity power.

"I looked into the time stream, searched through all the time since Dan Phantom had been imprisoned. One minute, he was in there, looked perpetually bored, and the next, he vanished."

Clockwork returned to his infant form. "He no longer exists, Danny. Now, why he no longer exists is still unsure. Time has not settled quite yet, in order for me to see why, but the Observers and I are coming to two conclusions."

"Which are?"

Clockwork, shifting into his adult form, stared at Danny with dimming red eyes. "One of which is the possibility you do not cheat on the CAT's, which leads to you actually studying for and passing the exam. From that particular time stream, I saw you graduating, on time, and moving onto college. You...become very successful, Danny. College, university, NASA. You become the first and only astronaut to make it to what the humans once considered Pluto, thanks to supernatural speed and an ice core. Danny, your future in this time stream is astoundingly bright."

Danny felt his heart lighten up a little. He was successful. He had accomplished his dream. He made it to freaking Pluto, which hadn't been done by any current space agency. Him. A halfa from a family of ghost hunters.

"Th-That's amazing!" Danny wanted to cry, to laugh, to sing.

But, Clockwork didn't look very happy.

Danny blinked, the smile that had formed on his face falling. "What's...what's the other future? You said you saw two possible futures, but neither lead to...to him. So, what happens?"

"Danny, I...I don't know if I should say it."

"Clockwork, please," Danny said, his heart beginning to ache. "Tell me."

"You...die, Danny. There will be a point in your life where you will feel such despair, and it is at that point that the futures become a crossroad. In one point, you wallow in your despair until you pull yourself out of it, until you work for yourself and made it astoundingly far in life. But, in another, your sadness, your anger, become so bad...you...you no longer desire to live."

Danny stared at the immortal being in front of him, his mind blanking out. Clockwork looked more distraught from the news of his future than he did, but he sure felt _something_.

Danny lied back down on his bed, and stared up at the plastic stars on his ceiling. "...What did you do to the thermos he was in?"

"I destroyed it. There was residual time energy inside of it, and I didn't want to risk his return."

"Ah. Hm. Thank you."

"Are you alright, Danny?"

"No. But what else is new?"

"Would you like me to stay for a while?"

"Hm. No." Danny moved to his side and curled up into a ball. He stared at the wall, "Thank you, Clockwork. For telling me all this. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Danny."

Clockwork vanished just as quietly as he arrived, leaving Danny to his thoughts.

Did he want to die? Not necessarily. He was getting better. And there was the chance that he would be fine, as evident by Clockwork's news. The future changes all the time, and Danny can only hope to stay on a good path.

He hoped he wouldn't get worse. But, only a little hope. Only a little.


	3. Boxes

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etcetera, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is, in no way, associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title: Rise.

Rating: Mature.

Fandom: Danny Phantom.

Summary: "Oh, uh...an idea for the project. I...I think it's supposed to be, like, electricity in a box. But, I don't even know what that means." "Sounds like something waiting to happen."

Warnings: AU. Discussion of existentialism, death and suicide.

Author's Notes: I'm writing this because I don't want to think about my upcoming tests and finals. And, also because this is basically filler. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three

Boxes

* * *

His future was either phenomenal or devastating. Danny was only sixteen, and he was very familiar with feelings of despair and anticipation. Yet, knowing his future was split between two distinct paths left him with awful taste in his mouth. To grow up and become an accomplished astronaut, like he dreamed; or, to die at his own hand.

Danny could not go back to sleep after Clockwork's visit, and felt his weariness grow like a tangible force, pulling his limbs deeper into his mattress. His room smelled like salt and copper, like the majority of his home. Danny stared at the spot Clockwork once was, as if willing the ancient ghost to return and tell him his future has changed.

His heart ached and he wondered, _What am I meant to do...?_

* * *

His art project was progressing, but he knew his other classes needed his attention.

"Mr. Fenton."

"Mr. Lancer."

Danny stood in the doorway of his English teacher's classroom. It was lunchtime, which meant it was almost the perfect time to visit Lancer. The balding instructor closed his notebook, and smiled towards his student. "Come in."

Danny approached Mr. Lancer, swallowing down the trepidation building up his throat. He stood in front of the man's desk and inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. "Mr. Lancer, I'd like to a chance to improve my grades. Please."

Lancer hummed. "I suppose you _are_ deserving of extra credit. Your average in my class happens to be a 2.2, while the average in your other classes are around 2.8 and 2.9, with, obviously, your preparation for college algebra class and chemistry class being a perfect 4.0. That's to be expected, of course, with you being the son of inventors."

The instructor nodded, resting his chin on his palm. "Very well. From what I've heard, Ms. Greene is having her art classes do a semester-long project. Do you know what you plan on doing?"

"I...um..."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. _Are you kidding me? I don't fucking know what I'm doing._ "Kind of?"

"Well, what ideas do you have?"

"Uh..." _Electrocution sounds about right, but that's just alarming._ "I've only got sketches so far."

"Might I see?"

"Sure..." Danny grabbed his backpack, opened it and dug through his folders and papers to find his sketchbook. He pulled the book open, and flipped through his previous sketches to show Lancer the current one.

Lancer took the sketchbook carefully, looking over the sketch of a box with scribbled lines inside of it, then returned it to his student. "Do you have any idea what it's supposed to be...?"

"Um..." Danny pursed his lips, then lifted his hand. He willed ectoplasm to his fingertips, and watched as tiny sparks of green electricity appeared upon his fingertips, then looked to Lancer.

The man looked absolutely fascinated. His eyes were wide, and his brows were raised. "Is that new?"

"Yeah. Haven't the chance to fight with this ability yet. Although, I haven't a clue as to what will happen."

"It's some sort of-"

"Ectoplasm fueled electricity," Danny noted. "It showed up when I was freaking out over that freaking sketch."

"Language, Mr. Fenton."

"Sorry, Mr. Lancer," Danny said, biting back a smile.

He forced away his ectoplasm, watching the sparks on his fingers disappear. Honestly, the electricity felt...morbidly nice. His fingers didn't feel so detached with energy coming out of them.

"It seems, " Lancer noted. "That you want to focus on electricity. There are many ways electricity can be a good topic, for example-"

"I don't want to do that."

"I," Lancer blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not doing that."

"But, Mr. Fenton, it's a very convenient topic-"

"I'm not doing a piece on the thing that killed me."

Lancer blinked, as if he couldn't believe what he just heard. "Excuse me?"

Danny sighed, rubbing his hands together. "The reason I'm half-ghost is because I was electrocuted by my parent's portal." The boy's brows furrowed. "I'm not entirely comfortable with talking about...how I sort of died."

"Of course, Mr. Fenton." Lancer sighed. "Here's what I can give you. Do a paper explaining your piece, when you come up with it, of course. Every artist has to explain why they created their piece. No more than a page in length should be enough."

Danny nodded, a smile coming to his face. "Of course."

He grabbed his sketchbook and began to leave the room, but stopped just at the door. "Oh, um,...thank you, Mr. Lancer."

"Of course, Mr. Fenton."

As Danny left the man's class, Lancer closed his eyes. As the councilor to the eleventh graders, he was meant to alarm the teachers of any student showing signs of emotional distress. But, how was he supposed to explain to his colleagues that the _reason_ Danny was feeling so terrible is because he's _half-dead_?

Lancer rubbed his temples. If he didn't stop thinking so much, he'd lose what little hair he had left.

* * *

Danny stared at his sketch. His class was surprisingly quiet. Even Dash and Paulina were focused on their work, although that might be due to the fear they had of Ms. Greene.

A box. Some scribbles. His new power. Electricity. He didn't want to draw about electricity. He didn't like it. He barely liked lightning, even _before_ his accident.

Danny sighed. _What am I meant to do?_

"Danny?"

The boy looked up at his teacher. The woman was wearing big circle lens glasses, and she stared at his sketch. "What's this?"

"Oh, uh...an idea for the project. I...I think it's supposed to be, like, electricity in a box. But, I don't even know what that means."

"Sounds like something waiting to happen."

"Waiting to happen?"

Ms. Greene nodded. "A box doesn't have to be a trap. It can be a container for something. And electricity is such a powerful but manageable force."

"So, like, potential energy?"

"Exactly! And what do you do with you potential energy?"

"You release it."

"Now, you're getting somewhere."

Danny tilted his head. Maybe what he was drawing wasn't a bad thing.

* * *

"You have a new _power_?" Tucker exclaimed, practically falling off of Danny's desk chair.

"I mean, kind of," Danny murmured. He drew open boxes, closed ones, half made ones. "It's like the beginning's of a new power. Like, when I first became a halfa. I can't exactly control the thing."

"It's weird, though," Sam mentioned from her place at Danny's bean bag. "It's electricity, right?"

"Yeah."

"But aren't you an ice core-type of ghost?"

"Hey, what if he's a plasma ghost, instead?" Tucker noted.

"That's doesn't make any sense. Why would he have ice powers, then?"

"I dunno. A lot of what Danny's got doesn't make sense."

" _Thanks_ , Tuck."

"You know what I mean, dude."

Danny closed his sketchbook. "What if I'm not an ice-core, you know? What if I'm a water-core. Plasma is kind of part of the whole cycle of solid, liquid, gas. What if this electricity is in between my ice powers and my regular ghost powers?"

"That's so cool," Sam noted, nodding her head.

"That's so wild," Tucker scoffed. "It's like there's something new every day. How are you even feeling by the way?"

"Eh, so-so." Danny answered, standing up from his place beside his bed to set his sketchbook onto his desk. "There are good days and bad days. Today's just been...confusing."

"You're gonna fry your brain to a crisp if you keeping thinking so much, Danny," Sam joked.

"Get off my case," Danny laughed. "I've got this question running in my head that won't go away."

"Which is?"

"What the hell am I meant to do? I mean,...Clockwork visited me a while ago And what he said was...worrying, to be honest."

"Wait, he visited?" Sam perked up. "What did he say?"

"...It's scary."

"Aw, Danny-"

"Sam," Tucker interrupted. "Don't push the dude."

"Nah, nah. It's cool," Danny said. He sat back down on his bed and stared at the wall. "It's just...Clockwork said that because of what happened last year, that...that Dan...he disappeared."

"He's _gone_?!" Both teens shouted.

"Shhh!"

"Sorry."

"Yes. He's gone. He's gone because, apparently, wanting to die is the perfect way to get rid of your evil future self."

Sam and Tucker remained silent as Danny brought his hands to cover his eyes. "Clockwork said something is gonna happen that I'd either end up getting really bad then a lot better. Or getting really bad and, uh...dying."

"He said you were gonna kill yourself," Tucker said quietly.

"Yeah." Danny pressed his palms tighter against his face. "Guys, I _swear_ , I don't want to die. It's just...I mean,... _knowing_ that my future is kind of split into two is wild. And it's leaving me with all these questions."

Danny felt his bed dip with added weight. His hands were pulled away from his face and Danny looked down. Sam's hand was holding his left, and Tucker's was holding his right.

"You don't need an answer to these questions now, man," Tucker said. "Gotta calm down first before you start making decisions."

"But-"

"Shh," Sam said, resting her chin on Danny's shoulder. "Shut up. Stop thinking."

Danny sighed and closed his eyes. He tightened his hold on his friends' hands.

He didn't know what his possible futures meant. He didn't know what his new power meant. He didn't know why he was drawing boxes and lines, and lines in boxes.

Right now, all he knew was his friends were still here with him.


End file.
